


Somethings never change

by MacandLacy



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF, Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Minor Violence, Period-Typical Homophobia, Protectiveness, Reflections on, Roger Taylor is a softie BAMF, Roger stands up for folks, and treatment of women
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 21:04:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17515880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MacandLacy/pseuds/MacandLacy
Summary: Ben gets hurt by idiots, and Roger is there to go all protective!Dad on him.  Inspired by the “Ben Hardy-Hurt/Comfort One-Shots” series by the amazing MichaelMyersGirl.   Reflections on past period-typical homophobia and treatment of women....which, sadly, we still have to deal with today.OR...Why did Roger get into so many fights? (Because he is a knight-in-shinning armor, that's why).





	Somethings never change

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MichaelMyersGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MichaelMyersGirl/gifts).



> Inspired by the “Ben Hardy-Hurt/Comfort One-Shots” series by the amazing MichaelMyersGirl. Thank you for letting me play in your Universe for a story. Please be sure to check out all of their amazing stories!
> 
> This turned out more angsty than I intended. I am sorry. I hope that no one feels uncomfortable. 
> 
> Not betaed, so all mistakes are mine!

Ben had never thought once that there could be any possible repercussions. As he limped back to his trailer, he was just grateful that they were on location for the farm scenes, so things were pretty isolated and not many people were around. Plus it was now dark, thank goodness; he had deliberately pulled over on a side road and waited for an hour or two so it would be dark. He hadn’t counted on his muscles cramping up while he sat, and it was hard to keep back the grunts of pain as he slowly moved. But at least no one saw him as he left the rental car, and fumbled up the stairs into the trailer he was calling home while on location.

All he wanted was to curl up on the bed after taking a bottle or two of aspirin. And a shower. Thank God he didn’t have any scenes planned for tomorrow and maybe he could get some rest. He knew it was going to hurt, and it would be hurting likely for some days, but it was only to be expected. 

What he didn’t expect to see was the older man waiting for him.

“Ben! Well, it’s about time—“ Roger stopped short as he looked at the young man before him.

Ben was in his 1970’s costume as the young Roger, complete with the wig. He was also covered with bruises clearly showing on his face and arms. At even the first glance, Roger could see blood on Ben’s face and clothes as well.

Ben wanted to curl up and die. But before he could move, Roger sprang into action.

“Jesus Christ, son! What the Hell happened?” Roger was beside him in an instant, supporting his weight and guided him to the couch. Ben couldn’t prevent the hiss of pain as he sat down, his limbs bruised and cramped. 

“Ben, what happened?” Roger repeated intently, blue eyes running over the younger man, assessing for injuries.

“Got jumped,” Ben finally managed to say. “Stupid idiots, but stupid me, too. I promised to run an errand, and went into the city. Never thought once about…” he hissed as Roger started to pull of the remains of the shirt. “Wardrobe is going to be so pissed,” he said, his mind fogged with pain.

“I am pissed,” Roger said, and his voice was so low and full of venom that Ben had to blink a little. He had never heard Roger so angry. Without realizing it, he moved a bit away from the drummer, and Roger froze.

“It’s okay, I am not pissed at you, son,” Roger said quickly. He was back to the calm and steady man Ben had gotten to know over the past few months. He hands were gentle as he finished with the shirt and then began checking Ben’s upper body. “What happened? Who did this to you?”

“Couple of idiots in town,” Ben finally admitted. “I stayed in costume, just running a quick errand. Ran into two morons coming out of a bar, totally drunk and they—“ he stopped, not wanting to say anything more.

Roger’s blue eyes were calculating. “They thought you were a girl, and then they called you a queer when they realized you were a bloke,” he guessed, his voice angry, but still steady.

Ben flushed. “Yeah, pretty much,” he admitted.

Roger’s hand were steady as he continued to assess injuries, but his voice was shaking with anger. “Some fucking things never change,” he muttered. “So then what?”

“Then they tried to beat the crap out of me. I got in a few good punches, and fortunately, some friend of theirs who wasn’t quite as drunk came out and pulled them off before it got too far.”

Roger hummed, running his hands over the younger man. “Did they get you in the stomach at all? Chest?”

Ben was blushing as Roger checked him over. “A couple punches in the chest, but they didn’t knock me down.”

“Stomach?” Roger repeated sternly.

Ben had to think a moment. “No?” he ventured.

Large, strong, hands ran over Ben’s ribs, and then gently grasped his chin, making him turn his head. “Any double vision? Dizziness? Breathing difficulty?”

“Dizzy for a few minutes right after it happened, but it’s long gone.”

“Teeth?”

Ben wanted to laugh, but it hurt. “All there, I think. You should write a manual about after-fight care,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. 

“Son, I could write a whole series of books. It’s definitely not my first rodeo.” He took off Ben’s boots. “How about the legs? Did you get kicked there at all? What about your knees?”

“No.”

"Let's see your arms." Roger ran his hands down Ben's arms and then inspected his hands.

Roger finally seemed satisfied that Ben was not badly hurt, and went to get a warm washcloth. He began with the blood on Ben’s face, and together they worked off the wig. “Umm….wig is on pretty good, isn’t it?” Roger commented.

“Yeah, like glue,” Ben sighed in relief as Roger pulled it off. “Damn, might have been easier if this had just pulled off. When one of the idiots grabbed it, it hurt like Hell. I think I got blood on it. Wardrobe is going to be so pissed…” he muttered again.

“I’ll talk to them,” Roger said. “No worries.” He ran the washcloth over Ben’s face again. “Head wounds bleed like shit. We’ll need some band aids,” he said. 

“I’ve got a fist aid kit in the bathroom,” Ben said. “But Roger, really, I’m fine, I can—“

“You’re going to listen to me,” the older man said firmly. “Get in the shower; your muscles are going to be aching like Hell if they already aren’t. Nice, long, hot shower, and then we’ll see what needs bandages.” He helped the actor to his feet. “Come on now.”

Ben felt absurd showing while a rock star legend waited in the small bedroom of the trailer, but did as he was told. Roger had tossed some sweat pants into the bathroom and Ben carefully pulled them on and made his way to the bedroom where Roger was waiting.

“Roger, you really don’t need—“

“Hush,” Roger said. He expertly applied a some antiseptic ointment and then a few bandages to the cuts on Ben’s hairline where his wig had been painfully torn and one scratch on Ben’s jaw line where a ring had cut him.

“Well, kiddo,” Roger finally said as packed away the first aid kit. “The only reason I’m not calling in a medic is because I am going to take your word that you didn’t get hit in the stomach or ribs, and I can see that your head and face wounds are minor. You’ll bruise, but thank God for makeup.”

“It was just a few hits,” Ben insisted. “Could have been a lot worse though,” he admitted in a small voice. Fighting had never been his strength.

“Did you get a good look at them?”

Ben shook his head. “No, not enough to describe to police.”

“Well, we should still report it anyway,” Roger said. “If nothing else I can tell that idiot bar owner to keep control of his damn customers. We’ll talk more in the morning. For now, get comfortable,” Roger ordered. “I’ll fix you up an ice bag. But first, take some aspirin.” Ben didn’t argue with him, and a few minutes later Ben was lying in bed and Roger had two baggies full of ice resting on his jaw and head. Roger sat beside him on the edge of the bed and looked to have no intention of leaving.

“Thanks, Roger, but you don’t need to stay,” Ben tried again to protest.

“Nah, I’m good,” Roger said. He moved to settled in beside the younger man, sitting up against the headboard and holding the ice packs on Ben's head. “You just got attacked, kiddo, I’m staying with you for a bit. It’s scary being jumped like that.”

Something in the older man’s voice made Ben reflect a little. “Roger, you said something things never change?” Roger nodded. “Have you ever…umm…”

“Been mistaken for a girl, then called a queer, and then some idiot tried to beat me up?” Roger shrugged. “Too many times to count. And this was when long hair was the fashion, for Christ’s sake. No one picked on Brian because he is a giant, and for some reason no one ever mistook Freddie for a girl. Maybe it was the facial hair,” he mused thoughtfully. “But sure, plenty of times John and I would have someone come up behind us expecting a girl. Got to where I rather enjoyed it at times.” He winked at the actor. “Heard some pretty good pick-up lines.”

Ben tried to not laugh because his face hurt when he did. Roger readjusted the ice packs.

“And besides, I knew I was gorgeous,” Roger continued smugly. “Can’t be mad at folks for having good taste.”

“It hurts when I laugh,” Ben pointed out, grinning. 

Roger was grinning now. “And, well, as for Rogerina, where do I even begin?” Ben snorted in laughter. “I knew what I was doing when I suggested drag for that video. Had the entire set in the palm of my hand.”

Ben had to bite his lip. “Stop making me laugh,” he protested. Roger took pity on him and chuckled a bit before turning serious again.

“But now, mind you, when the pickup line was crude, or someone tried to cop a feel, then that was a totally different story. ’Rogerina’ punched the Hell out of more than one person who didn’t know how to approach a lady. I wasn’t mad that they thought I was a girl; I was pissed at anyone who would be crude or just grab some random women. Or anyone who dressed or looked however they damn well pleased. And I also didn’t fight because I was called queer. I was pissed because no one should be called any hate words like that. Hell, 90% of my fights weren’t because of something said directly to me; they were because of people around me getting picked on or Rogerina getting felt up from behind, and again, I never took it personally. It was the principal of the matter. You can call me just about whatever you want to my face, and I’ll just tell you sod off. But don’t involve friends, family, or innocent people. And never lay a finger on someone without full consent. That still makes my blood boil."

Ben smiled a little. "Roger Taylor, you are a big softie, aren't you?" 

Roger chucked. "Not really. Just have never been able to stand aside and let someone be picked on. Regardless of gender, appearance, whatever. Maybe its also because I've never have been able to mind my own damn business. But that's not always a bad thing. Stand up for folks even if you don't know them. It's the principal of the matter." He sighed. "Freddie put up with Hell, worse than you'll ever know. He fought back by being just him. I liked to fight with my fists. Not saying that was always right, and I'm sure glad that I have - believe it or not- mellowed a bit. But at the time, yeah, I gladly jumped into fights if that was the only language a moron could understand."

The aspirin and ice were starting to work, and Ben sighed as some of the pain started to fade.

“I checked the call sheet, or whatever they call it. You have tomorrow off,” Roger said. “Get some rest, kid. Tomorrow you’re going to be sore as Hell, but I’ll go get some of my favorite muscle ointment. Should have bought stock in that company,” he reflected thoughtfully.  


Ben was exhausted, sore, and still a bit unnerved at the attack, but he felt safe. Roger started to gently brush a hand through his short hair, rubbing soothingly at the red marks were the wig had been pulled, and it made Ben close his eyes.

“You get some sleep, kiddo,” Roger said. “I’ll stay with you for a while.”

“Thanks, Roger.” Ben was already mostly asleep when there was a soft kiss to his head.

“Good night, son.”

**Author's Note:**

> Take care of each other, folks! Stand up for everyone (I'm not saying get into fist fights, just saying stand up for one another).
> 
> **If anyone ever wants to expand on this snippet, run with the idea, etc....PLEASE feel free to do so . We need more Queen!Dads :-)**


End file.
